


push your limits

by FillorianHighKink



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Bladder Control, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Gentle Dom Eliot Waugh, M/M, Watersports, Watersports - Kept In Bondage While Desperate to Piss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28859349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FillorianHighKink/pseuds/FillorianHighKink
Summary: “Are you really gonna let me piss myself?” Quentin asks, a hard edge to his voice that tells Eliot just how desperate he is, but there’s a gleam in his eye that Eliot knows well.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	push your limits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



> For anyone in the Bulletproof Exchange coming into this one blind, here's a picture of Quentin:  
> 
> 
> And of Eliot:  
> 
> 
> This is set post-canon (and implies some happy ending shit happened in between), so all you really need to know is that they do magic with finger tutting (plus some other elements, depending).

Eliot takes one look at Quentin when he returns from a day of teaching at Brakebills and knows that tonight will be a bondage night.

It had taken time, and a lot of trial and error, to find the exact scenario that would allow Quentin to feel free from his anxiety, for a time. As it turns out, that scenario involves silky scarves and their fortified bed frame.

Eliot checks in to see if Quentin wants to talk about his day, but when he doesn’t, Eliot shifts his focus to kissing him sweetly, helping him out of his clothes and massaging his wrists to get him excited for how they’re going to spend their evening.

It’s always something special, to see Quentin spread out over their bed, spread eagled and ready for Eliot to fasten his wrists and ankles to the frame. And he loves that he’s able to do this for Quentin, so that he doesn’t have to think about anything, be responsible for anything except whatever Eliot asks him to do. Which is mostly just relaxing while Eliot works him up to the edge, then shifts his focus to read or do some other work for a while, alternating between his latest project and making sure Quentin’s dick is still hard enough to leak until Eliot is finally satisfied enough to get him off. They’ve been together long enough, and Eliot’s learned his body well enough, that Quentin always ends these sessions with a bone-deep relaxation, completely sated in mind and body.

Eliot uses his telekinesis to move the scarves into position, then performs the tut to tie them just so, with an easy release if Quentin needs it. He takes his time stripping down as Quentin relaxes into his position, watching him hungrily. Eliot loves this part, seeing Quentin’s cock fill in anticipation before Eliot even touches him. Eliot slips his maroon robe on as a final touch, then pulls up a chair and his latest book to get comfortable for a while.

He keeps a hand on Quentin at all times, flipping his pages telekinetically, so that Quentin can relax and know that he’s still there. He waits until Quentin seems sufficiently lulled to silently float his book aside, tutting moisture into his palm and reaching over to wrap his hand around Quentin’s dick.

Quentin moans, testing his restraints for the first time today as he tries to move into Eliot’s touch. They hold fast, and Eliot takes his time, slicking up Quentin’s dick and quickly bringing him fully hard. “You look beautiful, baby,” Eliot murmurs, stroking him intently. “You’re gonna feel so good by the time I’m done with you.”

“Feels good now,” Quentin says, working his hips to add that tiniest bit more movement to Eliot’s strokes.

“Just wait,” Eliot says. He continues to grip Quentin’s dick until he can see the desperation start to hit, and then he takes his hand away, sliding his fingers along Quentin’s body as Quentin whines.

Another short while passes with Eliot reading and contemplating what he might make them for dinner later, after Quentin’s inevitable nap.

“El,” Quentin says suddenly, his voice sharp.

“Hmm?” Eliot says, not looking up from his book and continuing to stroke absently over Quentin’s hip.

“I have to piss.”

Eliot studies him, the tilt of his mouth, the worry line between his brows. Quentin has been known to fabricate a reason to get out of bondage early, but this, Eliot can see, appears to be genuine. “Noted,” he says, going back to his book.

Quentin groans and pulls on his bonds once in protest, but otherwise stays silent.

He maintains his air of nonchalance, but in the back of his mind Eliot is running through the scenarios. He could untie Quentin long enough to take a piss and come back; that would be the easiest route. But he doesn’t like the precedent that sets. When Quentin’s in a brattier mood, he’s sure to exploit the same loophole to get what he wants. He decides to wait it out for now. Eventually, Quentin will be desperate enough to know not to exploit Eliot’s leniency, or his desire to go will fade, and Eliot will be glad not to have given in.

After another ten minutes, it definitely looks like the former situation, as Quentin pulls at the scarves wrapped around his ankles, trying to pull his legs closer together. He’s squirming, his cock still full and pointed up toward his belly.

Eliot soothes him with a hand on his thigh, rubbing circles into his skin until he calms down. “Give me a color, baby,” Eliot says, shifting to ghost his fingers over Quentin’s abdomen.

Quentin huffs, and in what is probably meant to be a biting tone, says, “Green.”

Eliot smiles. “You really wanted to say yellow for the irony, didn’t you?”

There are bright red patches on Quentin’s cheeks, his anger looking even more adorable than usual with that highlight.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got you. You’re doing great.”

He sees Quentin try to relax again, but it doesn’t last long, and he’s squirming again within minutes.

“Fuck, El. I really have to go.”

Eliot hums in contemplation, reaching over to run his hand over Quentin’s cock, smoothing his fingers down and then rolling his balls in his hand. “We do this so you don’t have to be in control, right? So don’t fight it. I wanna see you lose control.”

Quentin groans, clearly pleased at Eliot’s touch but fighting against his suggestion. “I’ll ruin the bed.”

Eliot laughs lightly. “We have magic, baby. There’s no mess that magic can’t take care of. It’s almost an invitation, really.”

Quentin’s eyes are wild when they meet Eliot’s. There’s definitely a sense of, _Are we really doing this?_ passing between them. But Quentin is still fully hard, and Eliot is well on his way, now that he’s made the decision to keep on this track. This definitely hadn’t been Eliot’s plan for the day, his plan for _any_ day, but it turns out desperation looks good on Quentin, no matter the type.

Eliot tries to go back to his book, but he’s too distracted to actually focus, especially as Quentin starts uttering these breathy moans in between his grunts of effort.

“Are you really gonna let me piss myself?” Quentin asks, a hard edge to his voice that tells Eliot just how desperate he is, but there’s a gleam in his eye that Eliot knows well. Eliot may have been asking himself the same question, but Quentin asking it in that way is practically an assurance.

“I am,” Eliot says simply, and Quentin gasps as he lets out a spurt of piss, as if he was waiting for permission. Quentin breathes sharply through his nose, getting himself back under control, tensing in his restraints and then relaxing. “Look at you. You already look so good spread out for me, your cock all flushed and waiting for attention. You could just let it all go now, you know.” Quentin glares at him. “But you won’t, will you? You like feeling desperate. Letting me see you like this. And there’s always the possibility that— _maybe_ —I’ll untie you. Let you go take a piss and come back.”

“We both know that’s not going to happen.” Quentin’s gut clenches again. Eliot wonders if he’ll be sore tomorrow, if there’s something Eliot can do to sooth his aching muscles. He’ll have to check into it when they’re done here.

“So you just like testing your limits, then.” He cards his fingers through Quentin’s hair. “Good. Me too.”

Quentin leans into his touch. “Will you kiss me? Or am I too gross right now?”

“Baby, you’re doing so perfectly for me right now, you can have anything you want.” Quentin opens his mouth, and Eliot continues, “—except freedom from your restraints.” He bends down to kiss him, not letting up even when Quentin starts to squirm again, the smooth fabric of his bindings sliding against the bed frame. Quentin moans against his mouth, and Eliot can hear him letting go a little more.

He breaks the kiss, leaving his hand in Quentin’s hair to show that he’s not going far, shifting his gaze down Quentin’s body, where is cock is twitching as he tries to hold back his stream with nothing but his core muscles. Eliot is impressed.

“How much longer do you think you can hold it?” Eliot asks, low, against Quentin’s ear.

“Not long. A couple minutes, maybe? It feels fine once a cramp passes, but when a new one comes on there’s almost no stopping it.”

“Make it five minutes,” Eliot says, deciding, as he pulls his pocket watch free of his robe pocket. Quentin whines at the suggestion. “If you can hold on for five minutes with nothing more than the occasional slip, I’ll let you get off after.”

“That’s more than double what I said,” Quentin says, sounding deliciously desperate.

“I’m aware,” Eliot says, pressing a kiss to Quentin’s neck. “I think you can do it. You’re so good for me.”

Quentin continues to grumble about it, but it’s punctuated by the occasional moan as Eliot mouths at his throat, worrying the skin between his teeth in the beginnings of a mark. It serves as a good distraction at first, until Quentin gasps, hit with another cramp.

Eliot doesn’t let up, knowing his closeness will have an effect on Quentin. He knows it’s a risk; he doesn’t exactly want to get pissed on, but part of him wants to see what will happen. Quentin gets himself under control again—without getting Eliot wet—and Eliot rewards him by biting down a little harder.

He pulls back to check the time, stroking his fingers over the mark that he’s left. Quentin has his eyes squeezed shut, concentrating so hard on the task Eliot has given him. “That’s it,” he mutters encouragingly. “Look at you. This is just what I wanted to see. You’re so desperate for me.”

“Fuck, Eliot—” He gasps, his voice going high. “I don’t know if— _fuck_.” Eliot can only watch, fascinated, as Quentin grunts and writhes, trying _so hard_ to hold himself back. He loses control once more, longer this time, a high whine escaping his mouth as he tries to stop the stream. Eliot wipes away the sweat that’s sprung up on his brow, tucking his hair behind his ear as the cramp seems to fade. “How much longer?” Quentin asks, his voice rough.

“Just a little more than a minute, baby. You’re doing so well.”

He’s barely able to keep still at this point, trying to fold in on himself, pull his legs together, but unable to do anything but remain in his bonds, fighting against his impulses as hard as he can until time runs out.

“ _Please_ , El—”

“Ten more seconds.”

Quentin rattles the headboard _hard_. “I’m not gonna make it—!”

“You can do it. You’re so close. Five seconds.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

“Just hold it, you’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you. Two… one.”

A high-pitched noise is ripped out of Quentin, some mix of a gasp and a whine, as he lets go, still writhing against his bonds as his muscles adjust to the sudden release. Quentin’s expression shifts from a tightly-wound grimace to a warm, obvious look of relief as he empties his bladder, piss spurting over his chest from his still-aroused cock. Eliot pockets his watch and lays his free hand over Quentin’s thigh, petting him a little and murmuring to him soothingly.

“That’s it. You’re so beautiful when you lose control. I can’t believe you found a new way to impress me.”

Quentin moans, his stream less forceful now, his body sagging down in relief into the mattress as he gives himself over to what he needs. There’s something feral in Eliot’s chest—knowing that he put Quentin in this position and that Quentin welcomed it, schooling his body against all odds—that makes Eliot want to stake his claim, to let the world know Quentin is his. He palms his dick, suddenly so fucking turned on by all of this, as Quentin finishes emptying his bladder.

“Mmm,” Quentin says, wriggling his hips a little against the mattress, eyes glued to Eliot’s hand over his cock. “So I made it?”

“You made it, baby,” Eliot assures him. “Do you want to be cleaned up before or after you get off?”

“You would get me off like this?” Quentin asks incredulously, biting just at the edge of his lip.

“I’m not quite adventurous enough to blow you while you’re covered in piss, but I have no hesitations touching you,” he says, running a knuckle over the length of Quentin’s cock and watching him shudder. “I know how much you like my hands.”

“Fuck,” Quentin says, trying to push up into his touch. “I do; your hands are amazing. But uh—the thought of your mouth is what got me through that, so.”

“Yeah?” Eliot grins. He grips Quentin’s cock in his hand and gives it a few slow strokes. “What if I’d told you to hold it so I could suck you for a couple of minutes? Could you have held back for that?” His thumb brushes over the slit of Quentin’s cock to punctuate his question, making Quentin hiss in pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s so—I don’t even know. If I could. I didn’t know—didn’t think—”

Eliot continues to stroke him agonizingly slowly. “What didn’t you think?”

“That you’d be into this,” Quentin says with an expelled breath, like he’s been holding the thought inside just as desperately.

“There’s a number of surprising things I’m into, when you’re involved. But if you’re wondering, this wouldn’t have made the list, before today.” Quentin keens a needy moan, trying to get some more friction from his grip. Eliot laughs through his nose. “We can talk about it after. You ready to get cleaned up?”

“Please. I wanna come in your mouth.”

Eliot performs the tut twice, once for the mess on Quentin’s body, then again with a modification for the mattress. Once everything is clean, he moves the chair aside and climbs onto the bed, Quentin’s gaze rapt on him as he settles between Quentin’s legs.

“God, you’re so hot,” Quentin mumbles, holding his head up to watch as Eliot reaches for his cock.

Eliot smiles as he takes Quentin’s cock in hand, licking from the base up to the flushed head in one long stripe. “There’s one more request I have, before I let you come.”

“El, please—”

“I want you to describe to me what it felt like. Every desperate cramp, those last five minutes, knowing you had to hold it for me.” And then he takes the head into his mouth and sucks, making Quentin’s hips tilt up toward the heat of his mouth.

“ _Fffuck_ , okay,” Quentin says, his muscles flexing, still testing his restraints even after all this. “God. It was like, I was so desperate my ears were ringing. And like, I was cursing myself, because you gave me permission, you were _going_ to let me go, and I _wouldn’t_ , so I knew I’d brought this on myself. And every cramp— _fuck_ El, that feels good—every cramp would like, creep up, make me think I could handle it until it was _too much_ , and then I’d lose control before I’d even realized, but then I’d fight so hard to stop, to be good for you.”

Eliot hums his satisfaction around Quentin’s cock, petting his hip and sucking a little more intently to show his appreciation.

“It’s different from when you edge me, like, physically. But the mindset’s the same, from when I’m so close and I know I don’t have permission yet.”

Eliot can feel Quentin’s muscles tensing, the give in his belly that means he’s getting close. He reaches down to fondle his balls and pulls off, choosing to ignore Quentin’s whine. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. You want to come?” Quentin nods, his mouth hanging open as he stares down his body at Eliot. “Tell me what letting go felt like. Let me hear your relief. I’ll squeeze you right here,” he says, squeezing Quentin’s thigh, “when you’re allowed to come.”

Quentin takes a deep breath as Eliot goes down on him again, rolling his balls in one hand while the other remains still over Quentin’s thigh. “It kind of hurt at first, just, it was a lot, but it was a good hurt. I was hot all over, embarrassed, but in a good way. _Fuck_. That doesn’t make sense, does it?” Quentin attempts to keep talking, but his next sentence stalls out as his muscles shift again, clearly fighting against his desire to push up and into Eliot’s mouth. When he speaks again, it’s with far more urgency. “It was a rush, really, all the embarrassment fading because you were there with me, you were in control, and then the relief set in, my mind and my body coasting on the feeling of letting go completely.” He gasps, and when Eliot flicks his eyes up, he sees Quentin chewing on his lower lip. “You know just how to get me to the edge and make the crash over _so good_ , god, please El— _please_ —”

Eliot doesn’t give him permission just yet, though he could. Quentin has earned it. But he knows he can go another few strokes, so he drags it out, bobbing over Quentin’s cock and languishing in his noises. Quentin is so desperate for him, his whole body taut when Eliot finally gives his leg a firm squeeze and feels the satisfying rush of Quentin’s come gathering in his mouth. He swallows down, keeping pressure on Quentin’s cockhead until he’s whining from oversensitivity.

“Fuck, El,” Quentin says, bleary-eyed and dreamy as Eliot pulls off. “You’re so good to me. Can I get you off?”

“You don’t need to do a thing,” Eliot says, slicking up his hand magically and getting a grip on his cock. He grunts involuntarily, fucking into his fist as all the wonderful, sexy moments from the past hour crash over him in a wave, adding to his arousal as he stares down at his beautiful, sated boyfriend.

“Yeah, please El,” Quentin says encouragingly, not taking his eyes off Eliot. “I want you to come all over me.”

It’s not a hard wish to grant as he strokes his cock frantically, urgency building in his spine as he replays all of Quentin’s desperate noises in his head, knowing each one was just for him. He sits up on his knees as the pressure builds, aiming his cock over Quentin as he crests over the edge, his come striping over Quentin’s body. That feral impulse inside him seems to settle as he sees Quentin happily covered in his come. They moan together as Eliot continues to pump his cock, his breath evening out until he’s spent.

At Quentin’s request, he doesn’t perform another cleaning spell yet, instead focusing on getting Quentin out of his restraints. He does his ankles first, massaging the skin gently, then moves on to his wrists, capturing Quentin’s lips in a heated kiss as he frees him.

“Do we need to debrief now?” Quentin asks with the slightest whine in his voice.

Eliot huffs a laugh. “Not yet. You rest for a while. I’ll make us dinner, and then we can take a bath later and talk about it.”

Quentin hums, stretching out his limbs. “That sounds nice.”

Eliot performs the tut to clean him up, then helps Quentin get under the sheets. “Rest well,” he says, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Thank you,” Quentin murmurs, burying his head into a pillow and already slipping toward sleep. Eliot smiles to himself, letting himself enjoy the sweet moment before he has to go make dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment! Anon comments are on and guest kudos are also welcome!


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